


Coming to Terms

by TheDelphian



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDelphian/pseuds/TheDelphian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Barry introduces everyone to his new boyfriend for the first time, Hal is forced to come to terms with his own feelings for the speedster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Guy

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. This is the most work I've ever put into a fic. I'll be updating weekly.
> 
> I apologize for the shortness of the first chapter, but there really wasn't a better place to end it. :(

The first time Barry mentioned him, Hal didn’t think much of it.

“I’m seeing this guy,” he had said. “It’s… I don’t know. It’s kind of serious. I’m really into him, you know?”

Hal had smiled encouragingly. Ok, well, his smile _may_ have been primarily directed towards that latest viral video he was watching on Barry’s phone at the time – the cat was riding a _tricycle!_ – but some of it was definitely directed towards Barry. After all, Barry deserved to get laid from time to time, did he not?

In Hal’s mind, the words “kind of serious” only translated into phrases like “I hit it twice,” “I bought them dinner first,” and “hey, you know that kinky shit I’m into? They’re kind of into it too.” So, forgive him if he firmly believed there was nothing to worry about.

He was a little taken off guard when he returned from Oa a few weeks later and Barry was still talking about this guy. At least, he was pretty sure it was the same guy – Hal had forgotten his name by then. In fact, had he even caught it the first time? Whatever. Hal remained unfazed. Ok, maybe it bothered him a _little_ when Barry’s phone went off in the middle of their Star Trek marathon, and it quite possibly bothered him a bit _more_ when Barry actually answered the damn thing and _left the room_ to go talk to “this guy” for a whole _fifteen_ _minutes_. Seriously, what could you possibly have to say to someone that prompted a _fifteen_ minute phone call? More importantly, what could you possibly have to say to _Barry_ that was more important to him than _Star Trek_?

Hal was determined to remain unbothered by this, though. Because, honestly, what was there to be bothered about? So what if Barry was “serious” about this guy? Whatever the hell _that_ meant. How was any of it his business?

He laughed it off when Barry caught him in the watchtower hanger the next day. He’d asked Hal if it would be alright for him to bring what’s-his-face to dinner the next time the League went out together. He said he’d been asking everyone, that he wanted to make sure it was okay. Hal struggled only slightly to make some offhand joke about signing a permission slip and then proceeded to try his best at not thinking about what the hell all this could mean.

Was this the same idea as having your boyfriend meet your parents? Was that who this guy was? Barry’s boyfriend? Had Barry even _been_ in a relationship before? How long had Barry actually been seeing this guy, anyway?

More importantly, why the fuck couldn’t Hal remember this bastard’s _name_?

It didn’t matter, though, right? This wouldn’t last long. This guy was probably some nerd – worse than Barry, even. He probably met up with his buddies every Thursday night to play D&D and had the Star Wars Trilogy on Blu-ray… Ok, Hal also had the Star Wars trilogy on Blu-ray, but that was so not the point.

The point was, this guy was probably a loser and Hal had nothing to worry about (seriously, what was he so worried for in the first place?).

Irritatingly enough, when that league outing eventually _did_ come around, Hal found that “this guy,” in fact, was not as much of a loser as Hal had been imagining.

“This guy’s a complete tool.” Said Hal, the words muttered beneath his breath and not particularly meant for anyone. Of course, Bruce _was_ sitting right beside him – clad in pressed khakis and a black turtleneck whilst scrolling though emails on his phone – so if he _were_ to overhear, it’s not as though Hal would object.

Sure enough, Bruce raised a critical brow as though suspicious of his statement, but failed to glance up towards Hal’s direction.

“You think everyone’s a tool;” he muttered just as quietly, “I’m starting to think you haven’t a conclusive definition of the word.”

Hal snorted. “Sure I do – it’s _that_ guy.”

Hal gestured with a vague nod of his head in order to reference the blonde man with a pretty face and blues eyes who sat across the table smiling as though he had everything to live for. Clark was talking to him about something or another – probably the article he’d been working on or that new apartment he was moving into. Whatever it was, the blonde bastard seemed to think it was the most interesting damned thing in the universe as he nodded with both enthusiasm in his eyes and a porcelain smile at his lips.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Hal sneered, and he could practically hear the subtle upturn of Bruce’s lips in response.

“What the hell are _you_ smiling at?”

Bruce hummed dismissively. “Me? Oh, nothing. You’re right – complete tool. I couldn’t agree more.”

Hal rolled his eyes at that. Sarcasm itself was annoying – Bruce’s sarcasm was another thing entirely.

This dinner thing had been Ollie’s idea. “Team bonding,” he’d said, but really it was just an excuse for him to get drunk without Dinah chewing him out for it. So here they were, huddled up at some hipster bar in Keystone City with bottomless nachos and a table full of half-drunk beer bottles. Sure enough, Oliver was nine shots of tequila far gone, arm slung over Arthur’s chair, telling a not-funny story in a voice that was far too loud considering his mouth was a mere three inches from his ear.

Diana was frowning intensely at him from where she sat next to Dinah, not so much as hesitating to grab Ollie’s wrist when he reached for a beer bottle that wasn’t even his.

“I think you’ve had quite enough, Oliver,” she said.

Hal grinned. “Aw, c’ _mon_ , Diana - what’s one more shot? Oliver’s a big boy – right, Ollie? Besides – maybe this one’ll get’m to pass the fuck out so we don’t have to listen to any more of his dumb stories.”

Hal could feel Dinah and Diana glaring daggers at him, but, more importantly, he could feel Barry’s eyes on him as well.

“That’s not funny, Hal,” he said, a disapproving look in his eye, “he’s very drunk – he’s had enough.”

Oliver frowned loudly, slamming his hand against the table with extreme force. “M’not drrunk, _Barry_. I got’a piss, though. An’after m’takin’ that _shot_.”

Everyone watched with slight amusement as Oliver stood up from his seat, nearly knocking over his char (luckily Bruce caught it in time). He couldn’t even take two steps without stumbling to the side, catching himself against the nearby bar.

Dinah sighed exhaustively. “Could sometime please make sure he doesn’t drown back there?”

That’s when the blonde douchebag stood up, and, seriously, who the fuck did this guy think he _was_?

“I gotcha, buddy – I have to go too, anyways.” He said, slinging Oliver’s arm over his shoulder as though they’ve been friends for years. Honestly, _what the hell_?

As soon as the two of them were out of sight, everyone turned towards Barry with eager expressions.

“Your boyfriend is very charming, Barry.” Said Diana.

“And _hot_.” Added Dinah.

“That as well.”

“Seems like a great guy.” Clark chimed in.

One after one everyone added their enthusiastic approval. This soft buzz of sound settled over the table as Barry continued to express his relief and gratitude towards everyone taking such a liking to _whatever_ his name was (Ethan? Eric? It started with an E, Hal was pretty sure), causing a little bit of _something_ to start boiling beneath Hal’s skin.

“It was kind of weird bringing him here though, right?” Hal blurted out, unable to stop himself.

Everyone went quiet, turning towards Hal as though he’d sprouted a second head. But Hal only continued to look at Barry, who now looked as if someone had kicked his puppy.

“It’s just, this was kind of supposed to be an _us_ thing. And, well, he’s not one of us.” Hal explained, “It just seems irresponsible, is what I’m saying. With secret identities and all that.”

Clark narrowed his eyes at Hal – no doubt he could hear the loud sound of his aggressively beating heart. “He talked it over with the rest of us. Did you not get the memo?”

Hal paused because, yeah, that’s right (he really needs to start paying more attention to things). Nonetheless, Hal wasn’t about to back down from this – he had a strict no-backing-down policy when it came to life.

“What I meant to say was – it was kind of weird to even ask in the first place. Bringing your personal life into your… err, work life? It seems pretty selfish on both ends.” Hal said.

Barry’s eyes widened, the blue of them developing a sad shine. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

“I didn’t…” He said, “…we _talked_ about this, right? I told you guys…Eddie _knows_ who I am… I guess I just thought… I didn’t think… I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I made anyone uncomforta-“

“You _didn’t_ , Barry.” Dinah assured him, a pointed glare aimed at Hal. “Clearly Hal’s had a bit too much to drink himself.”

Hal rolled his eyes and took a purposeful swig of his own beer. “Oh, come on. It’s weird! I mean, we don’t even know the guy and Barry’s entrusting him with information that’s not even his to share? Bruce – back me up on this!”

Bruce responded to that by looking up from his phone for the first time since Ollie and Eddie left for the bathroom – he’d been responding to an email from Lucious. He looked around the table as though he wasn’t quite sure why everyone was staring at him so expectantly, and yet his expression remained unchanged.

“Eddie seems nice – I trust Barry’s judgment.” Was what he said, and then he went back to writing his email.

Hal had to put forth maximum effort to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

“Un-freaking- _believable_ ,” Hal muttered. “You will say literally anything to stand against my opinion, won’t you?”

Bruce momentarily paused in his typing, but didn’t look up from his phone. “You’re the one who _asked_ for my opinion, Hal.”

Hal couldn’t even begin to think of a comeback for that one because, yeah, he had. Since when had he started doing that?

Everyone watched as Hal stood up from the table more aggressively than he probably should have. He could feel their eyes on him as he made his way towards the exit, passing Eddie and Oliver along the way.

“Where y’headin’?” Oliver slurred.

“Home,” said Hal. He tried his best to not look up towards _him_ , but was forced into it because _seriously, his smile’s like a fucking **beacon**_.

“It was good meeting you, Hal – I’ll see you around?” He said, giving Hal a steady pat against his shoulder that made him feel as though he’d been assaulted. _Who gave you permission to touch me, jackass?_

Hal had planned to not say anything and just keep heading towards the exit, but then,

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

Babe. Hal wanted to _gag_.

“I’m going to walk Hal to his car – I’ll be back in a bit.”

Hal was facing the exit, not looking their way, but that was obviously Barry’s voice. And that short, quiet wet smack of flesh was definitely Barry’s lips pressing against that asshole’s and why an innocent ‘I’ll be back shortly’ kiss bothered Hal so damn much he wasn’t sure. But he’d be damned if he was going to take any time to reflect on it.

He didn’t even turn around to face Barry until they reached the darkest corner of the parking lot – Hal’s right hand digging into his pocket for his ring.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Asked Barry, standing a mere few feet away.

Hal rolled his eyes. “About what?”

Barry rolled his eyes as well, crossing his arms over his chest. It was getting pretty cold outside.

And this was typical of them. Hal was an open book most of the time, especially for Barry. ‘Do you want to talk about it’ was practically Barry’s catchphrase at this point in their relationship – Barry always knew when Hal was hiding something.

“You _know_ what, Hal.” He said, exasperated. “Your little temper tantrum back there? What was all that about?”

Hal considered that for moment as he rolled the cool metal of his ring within his hand. Because, honestly, he wasn’t sure what all that was about. It just kind of… happened. He wanted to explain that to Barry. Especially since the speedster was now looking at him with those wide, expectant, puppy-dog eyes of his that always made Hal want to tell him everything. That usually _did_ make him tell him everything. Instead he just settled for

“I’m drunk. Don’t worry about it,” and slipped the ring on his middle finger. He felt the violent surge of energy course through his body as his uniform began to materialize. He lifted a good few feet off the ground as soon as his mask was in place. “I’ll see you around, alright?” And he flew off, leaving Barry to stare after him in the dark corner of the parking lot.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that I'd be updating weekly. However, since the first chapter was so short, and the second one also is short - I decided I'd post the second one now and start the long chapter postings next week.(: 
> 
> Enjoy!

Hal wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up, but he knew for certain it was too goddamn early. There was someone banging at his apartment door like there was a fire in the hallway and he had a pretty good feeling it was his landlord.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He rolled off the edge of his bed with minimum enthusiasm, clad solely in a pair of white boxer shorts as he dragged his feet over the hard wooden floors. His hair was a mess, but at least he didn’t have much of a hangover.

The knocking started up again as soon as he was close to the door.

“Fucking Christ, calm your _shit_.”

Hal unlocked the deadbolt in an aggressive fashion, planning to give Reynold a piece of his mind. Dude was probably having another one of his fits where he reflected on his lack of a social life and decided to take it out on the only tenant whom consistently failed to pay their rent. When Hal yanked the door open, however, Reynold’s scruffy grey beard and angry scowl were nowhere to be found.

“What the hell?” Was all Hal could really say because, really, _what the hell?_

Bruce didn’t react much to that. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at Hal. He was looking beside him at the flat of the door, as though he were able to see right through it.

“You have an eviction notice.” He said casually, as though that were exactly what he came here to tell him.

Hal rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m aware of that, thank you – it’s rather difficult to pay rent when you spend months at a time in another galaxy. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Bruce didn’t answer that. There was a short moment where the man’s eyes made contact with Hal’s, then quickly scanned over his body as though he were just now noticing that Hal was undressed and, hey, maybe he should have called first. But instead of acknowledging anything of the sort, he simply stepped past Hal and into his apartment as though he had every right to do so.

“Unbelievable,” Hal muttered, closing the door behind him.

Then again, thought Hal, maybe he should be grateful. Batman had a tendency to do away with the whole ‘knock first’ thing entirely– at least he didn’t crawl through the window or bust through the fucking floorboards.

Hal turned to find Bruce in the kitchen area, placing a file on the table that, to be honest, Hal hadn’t realized he was holding in the first place.

“What’s that?” Hal asked, and he wished he could sound a bit more irritated. Unfortunately he was tired as all hell, and the words had escaped somewhere in the middle of a long, exaggerated yawn.

Bruce didn’t respond right away; he seemed a bit too preoccupied with scanning the environment. As far as Hal could remember, the man had never been to any of his apartments before. He could practically feel Bruce judging him as he stood there in his ridiculous three piece suit that most likely cost three times the amount of Hal’s entire life savings.

“Yo, Spooky, you listening? What the hell did you just put on my table?” Hal pressed.

Bruce paused to look at him then, making direct eye contact.

“Last night you accused me of something I wasn’t entirely fond of.”  He said.

Hal scoffed at that. “Of what? Being an asshole? No offense, but that’s got’a be something you get accused of quite often.”

Bruce frowned thoughtfully at that. “You never called me an asshole last night.”

“It was implied.”

That got Hal a particularly long stare before Bruce almost visually chose to ignore the comment.

“You accused me of being irresponsible. That the only reason I elected to be comfortable with the situation we were all put in last night was to spite you.” He explained, “I can assure you that was never – will never _be_ – the case.”

Hal blinked at him a few times; he was trying to process all that had been said. Speaking to Bruce Wayne was a lot like translating ancient dialect – it required immense concentration and a whole lot of creative interpretation.

“Are you… _apologizing_ to me?” Hal asked carefully, wondering if he sounded as baffled as he felt.

Bruce scoffed, “of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Hal watched as he reached to flip open the folder he’d placed on the kitchen table. “If anything, I’m merely showing you that I have nothing to apologize for.”

Hal took a few hesitant steps forward so he could take a closer look at what was inside. It seemed to be nothing more than a stack of papers covered in print, along with a few notes scribbled in messy cursive of which Hal recognized as Bruce’s distinctive handwriting. He examined the top of the first page.

**_Eobard Malcolm Thawne_ **

Hal snorted. “Well _that’s_ an unfortunate name.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You mean like Harold Lloyd Jordan?”

“… Point conceded.”

Surprisingly enough, Bruce smirked at that. Whether the smile was due to having won, or the response itself, Hal wasn’t sure. Either way, he couldn’t help but feel a bit prideful that he’d managed to momentarily crack the Bat’s exterior.

“These are his files,” Bruce said. “I conducted an extensive background check just like I always do with anyone who comes in close contact with the League. There isn’t anything I don’t know about this man.”

Hal raised a curious brow as he began to actually finger through the pages. “So what you’re saying is, you stalked the guy.”

For a moment, Bruce didn’t say anything – he merely turned to stare out the kitchen window.

“What I’m saying is, he checks out. He’s a non-threat. I wouldn’t have agreed to the dinner otherwise.”

Hal didn’t want to say anything to that – not until he read the files for himself.

“Are you leaving these here?” He asked.

Bruce looked at him then, his eyes boring into Hal’s momentarily before once again giving a brief examination of the rest of his person. Hal had to quickly glance down to make sure he hadn’t woken up with morning wood or something because, honestly, _you come to my house at for-fuck’s-sake-o’clock in the morning and you’re surprised I’m in my damn underwear?_

“If that’s what you wish for me to do.” Bruce finally said, and Hal simply nodded at that.

“Very well – keep them as long as you like.” He said, “I’m needed at the office.”

Hal didn’t bother to watch as Bruce made his way towards the front door – he was too busy scanning through the contents of the thick folder. For a moment, he considered telling Bruce to have a good day at work, but then decided that’d be fucking weird. So instead he offered an offhanded “Kay,” and listened for the door to close.

* * *

 

“So who was who?”

Barry glanced up from his laptop as soon as he registered that someone was speaking to him. He looked over to where Eddie was fixing breakfast behind the counter, smiling softly at the man’s mussed up hair and the snug fit of his tank top. Eddie always managed to look so beautifully relaxed in the mornings – especially on his days off from work.

“What do you mean?” Asked Barry.

Eddie carefully flipped over an egg before returning Barry’s smile.

“You know what I mean.” He said, “At dinner last night – your friends. Who was who?”

Barry smiled wider, only this time in amusement. He closed his laptop, having already finished the article he’d been reading, and sat back in his seat with his arms folded.

“You tell me, Mr. Detective.” He said, a playful yet challenging look in his eye.

Eddie gave Barry a look of mock disbelief, to which Barry only continued to grin cheekily at him. It was common for Barry to tease him like this. Especially since, despite Eddie often having the opportunity to watch Barry in action (both as the Flash and a CSI), Barry rarely got to see Eddie do his thing outside the walls of the CCPD. Eddie typically found the jokes to be a tad bit frustrating at first, but, after a while, he’d concede. Eddie laughed softly and lent Barry an, “Alright, fine. Let’s see…”

Barry watched as he began to remove the eggs from the skillet, a pensive look on his softly smiling face.

“Well,” he said, plopping down the eggs onto a very large plate, “I already know Dinah and Ollie, obviously. So that would make the woman, Diana, Wonder Woman.”

Barry nodded, “Starting with the easy ones, I see.”

Eddie shot Barry his classic look of ‘give me a break, Allen,’ before turning to grab the plate of toast he’d fixed earlier.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say Bruce Wayne is Batman.” He continued, “You were right – he is… nothing like I imagined him from the tabloids.”

Barry had to laugh at that – Eddie was sugarcoating as he usually did. When the two of them were getting ready to go out last night, Barry had tried is best to give Eddie a basic run-down of all his friends. Barry loved Bruce as much of the rest of them, but his personality was challenging at best. The way he’d explained it to Eddie was that he was ‘a nice guy if you don’t get to know him.’

Eddie made his way towards where Barry was seated at the kitchen table with multiple plates in his hands. Barry helped him get things out of the way so he could set everything down. A large plate with a dozen eggs and six pieces of toast was set down in front of Barry, while Eddie sat down to his single un-buttered toast and two eggs.

“The blonde guy,” Eddie went on, “Arthur – he’s got to be Aquaman.”

Barry raised a brow at that as he picked up his fork. “What makes you say that?”

Eddie picked up his fork as well. “Well, he’s blonde.”

With a laugh, Barry said, “This is true,” and shoveled a fork full of eggs into his mouth.

“Also, I swear he got at least thirty two refills on water. He also doesn’t wear a mask, so, there’s that.”

“Fair enough,” said Barry, still chuckling, “that just leaves Hal and Clark.”

Eddie began to look pensive again as he used his fork to further separate his eggs from his toast. Barry noticed quite some time ago that Eddie hated it when his food touched – he always made such a conscious effort to assure it never happened.

“Hal… he’s the one you’re always hanging out with.” He said, “Based on hair color and basic facial structure, I’m guessing he’s Green Lantern.”

Barry smiled – Hal really did have incredibly distinctive cheek bones. “And Clark?”

Eddie frowned before taking a bite of his toast.

“The big guy with the glasses?” He said, “To be honest, I have no idea. He seems really nice, though.”

Barry’s jaw practically dropped to the floor, his fork _literally_ dropping to his plate with a loud **_clang_**.

“ _Unbelievable_. I will never understand how he manages to pull that off.” Said Barry, an utter look of disbelief on his face.

Eddie raised his eyebrows and smiled out of confusion. “Who is he?”

Barry shook his head as he picked his fork back up. “Superman. Clark Kent is Superman.”

This time it was Eddie who dropped his fork. Barry smirked as he forked more eggs into his mouth. He chewed away at them, enjoying the expression of disbelief on Eddie’s face.

“You’re joking.” He said, “Superman? As in, alien from another planet Superman? As in, most powerful being in the universe Superman?”

“That would be him,” said Barry, swallowing.

“You’re telling me that the guy I had a forty minute conversation with involving the negative effects caused by the deconstruction and relocation of Metropolis inner city orphanages… is _Superman_?” Eddie questioned, abandoning his food entirely as he leaned back in his chair. “That… really puts things into perspective.”

Barry laughed at that. “Yeah – Clark tends to have that effect on people.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Eddie leaned back over his plate. He seemed to be taking a few moments to process some things – as though he couldn’t quite comprehend the fact that Superman drank beer and ate nachos. Barry could hardly blame him, though – he often had a hard time processing that fact as well at first.

 “Well,” Eddie finally said, “All your friends are very nice – I had a great time.”

Barry smiled widely at that, but didn’t say anything further. He was too intent on shoveling the last of the eggs on his plate into his mouth all at once. He could feel Eddie’s eyes on him as he did so – the man still hadn’t gone back to eating.

“Sumthin’ wron’?” Barry asked, trying his best to articulate his words over his food.

Eddie laughed softly at that, his cheeks rising into that overwhelmingly genuine smile that Barry couldn’t quite get enough of these days.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Said Eddie, “I just didn’t know when the right time would be…”

Confused, Barry swallowed all that was in his mouth as fast as he could. “Ask me what?”

Eddie pushed his plate to the side, then – it was rather clear now that he didn’t plan to eat any more from it. He reached across the table and placed his hand over the one of Barry’s that wasn’t currently grasping a fork.

“I want you to move in with me,” he said. “Permanently, I mean. A lot of your stuff is here already, and you practically spend most nights here… I don’t know. Maybe it’s moving too fast. I just thought –“

“Yes.” Barry said, cutting him off. “Eddie, yes – I want to move in with you.”

Barry was quite certain this was the widest he’d seen Eddie ever smile. He didn’t hesitate to lean over the table when Eddie did, letting their lips fall into place against each other’s as though that was exactly what they were made for. No amount of Speed Force could possibly make Barry’s heart beat any faster than when Eddie was kissing him. The way his lips seemed to plead his into action, and the way his tongue shyly lapped at his bottom lip – Eddie often kissed like a teenager. A very _romantic_ teenager.

“Allen,” Eddie breathed, as soon as they separated for air.

“Yes, Detective?” Asked Barry, just as breathless.

“Are you done with your breakfast?”

Barry’s smile was uncontrollable at that point.

“Yeah – I think I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment! Constructive criticism is always encouraged!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment!
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcomed!


End file.
